Mara
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The night air was thick with the scent of earth and jasmine. The garden lights were soft, casting a golden hue over the stone paths and trimmed hedges. I wasn’t planning on going out there. I really wasn’t. But something about the stillness in the house pushed me toward the door.
I told myself I just needed some air. That I wasn’t looking for him.
But there he was.
Lucian sat on one of the garden chairs, legs crossed, a glass of whiskey in hand. His posture was relaxed, but his face was serious. The kind of expression that said he was thinking too much and feeling nothing at all.
He didn’t glance my way, didn’t even shift when I stepped onto the stone path. We were both silent, The silence broken only by the occasional clink of ice in his glass.
I should’ve turned around.
